Not to sound maudlin and syrupy, but you do. One day at work a while back, I was having a stress attack (which happens not infrequently for me) and needed a breather, so I visited Ballet Talk (one of my many dance ‘breather’ websites) and took this completely goofy “Which ABT Ballerina Are YOU?” test that someone had posted. The test asked you both ballet questions (like which ballets, or which characters, you liked best) and more general personality questions like what’s your favorite color, image, word, how your friends describe you, what you look for in a mate, etc. I worship Alessandra Ferri — think she is by far the most artistically brilliant ballerina in the world right now, so assumed I’d get her. But instead I got Gillian Murphy, an allegro ballerina known for her athleticism, amazing speed, fast fast multiple turns, sky-high jumps, etc. And, in my little critique, it said that I was a great athlete and had boundless energy, and now I just needed to work on developing my artistry a bit! I laughed, thrilled at having got as my ABT avatar the ballerina who is probably, judging by the wild screams in the audience everytime she takes the stage, everyone else’s favorite!
Well, Luis and I taped ourselves dancing our routine earlier this week, and I just got up the courage to watch it. I’m in shock. I screwed up right and left — and there is a lovely shot of me covering my mouth bashfully after whacking my hip into his pelvis on a back cha cha — can I cover ANYTHING up?! And I seem to have this surprised, open-mouthed look on my face the entire time — like I can’t believe I’m actually dancing a Latin routine. BUT, with all the mistakes and silly faces, my body actually looks OKAY doing this crazy-ass, every-other-step-an-insane-trick, lightning speed mambosambachacha dance. Of course I need centuries of practice… but I re-viewed my tape of Pasha and me doing our soft, pretty, slow, romantic Rhumba, and I can’t believe it, but I look better with crazy Luis. I always thought that, with my ballerina-y body — ridiculously long legs and arms, long, thin sinewy, flexible muscles, feet with enormous arches, long goose neck, tiny bird-like head, etc. etc., I’d definitely look best doing a slow romantic dance. Speed-of-light-paced Mambo that requires smallness, not to mention sexy curves, was probably the farthest from what I would think would look good on me. I agreed to do Luis’s routine because — apart from the fact that I’d met him in one of the group classes he was teaching and really really liked working with him — I thought it would challenge me; would at least make my friends laugh if and when they saw me perform it. So, basically, the thing that ended up being a real challenge for me was the thing I thought was my thing. Hmmm…
One reason Rhumba’s so hard for me is that I go way way WAY too fast; Pasha’s always yelling at me to keep the time, count out loud if I have to. And everytime I count, he tells me I’m completely right, so if I can count, I should be able to keep the time with my feet. And yet I can’t — I’m just so impatient; I just want to go go go. And then I realized, that’s how I am in life too — I’ve been known to speed down our office hallway or round a corner so fast, I’ve blown paperwork right out of a co-worker’s hands; I’m always being asked to slow down while walking with friends; I not infrequently smack angry pedestrians with my ginormous ABT dance bag while speed-walking down Manhattan sidewalks; I talk so fast in the courtroom I’ve had judges tell me to stop my argument and start over; I sometimes get so impatient waiting on a subway I want to kill the train conductor by the time the train arrives. I do everything fast — except eat, and that’s only because I developed a swallowing disorder and was forced to calm down, in order to feed myself and to live, basically. I can’t even have a severe headache without jumping around… —speaking of which, I went to my primary care doctor yesterday for a check-up and she read to me the Columbia headache specialist’s report. He said all positive things like ‘patient was well-groomed’ and ‘dressed appropriately’ and ‘spoke articulately,’ but then at the end said, ‘patient somewhat anxious.’ ‘Somewhat anxious’ – -who me? I remember how, in an acting class I once took at HB Studios, we did a relaxation exercise and my teacher kept ordering me to stop moving and relax. I tried and tried and tried, and absolutely could not stop: swinging my leg; tapping my foot; rubbing my knuckes; crossing and uncrossing legs… anything but keep completely still. Why?
Oof, maybe that stupid ABT test was right! Maybe if I had dedicated my life to dance, I would have been a sparkly, piquant allegro, and not a beautiful, lyrical, poetic adagio ballerina, as I see myself in my dreams (assuming I’d made it in the cutthroat world of ballet, of course…). Now in adulthood, maybe a crazy, fast-paced Latin dance is more me than a soft pretty one. Or, maybe Rhumba is doing me some good; perhaps I should learn to take my time more in life: smell the proverbial roses, don’t rush, don’t choke, taste the food, feel the music, feel the character, feel my partner, finish the pretty line, just enjoy…
Anyway, Sunday evening, my former West Coast Swing team had a partial reunion. Here is a photo. One of our teammates, Jackie Draper, gives a cabaret performance at Danny’s Skylight Room in the theater district about every six months, and as many of us as possible try to go — we kind of use her performances as our little reunion time. This one was special, because Jackie entitled her show “Something to Dance About” and she had a little segment where she talked and sang about our team. The team was a really fun experience — probably the best competition experience I’ve had. In fact, Dance Times Square had all of the showcase participants fill out these little questionnaires about ourselves, and one question was what our favorite competition experience was. I put mine was getting plastered with my teammates after finishing our final competition last May at the Grand Swing Nationals in Atlanta, and reuniting with my former teammates every so often in NY. In the vast majority of competitions, the student competes on his or her own with a teacher; very few comps have a team event unfortunately. With a team, you’re all in it together, and you bond in ways that you just don’t bond with, for example, other students from your studio who are also competing with your teacher, and whom you’ll therefore spend a lot of time with at a comp. A team comp is an unforgettable experience. Anyway, we will probably have our next little reunion at, yikes, MY showcase, which Jackie bluntly reminded me was coming up in less than a month. They’re now putting up posters around the studio… Help.
Oooh, just realized I have no underwear for tomorrow… geez, I have been dancing way too much and neglecting my life. Before I forget, here are a couple of pictures of the artwork I bought in Martha’s Vineyard last month when I went out there to see Stiefel and Stars. Okay, off to do emergency laundry…
